


A Lover On The Left, A Sinner On The Right

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Drinking, Historical, I suck at tags, M/M, Oral Sex, Short Chapters, They don't hate each other, Thomas is totally pining, shameless flirting, slow burn??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Haha, do you like the song quote I made? :)---Alexander Hamilton was a hard working, stubborn, angry little married man. He worked hard for the things he wanted, for the things he cared about. Thomas Jefferson, on the other hand, was a wealthy, self loving ass. Who didn't have to work for anything he did, because he was practically born into a great family. Alexander hated him. Hated him with everything he had, but yet, when he stays after for a late work day, and he finds himself molded against the man, he begins to think....perhaps Thomas Jefferson wasn't so bad.





	A Lover On The Left, A Sinner On The Right

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is pretty much all over the place. I hope it's good. I might end up deleting it tho :l

It was a cold night, the immigrant's eyes stilled on the paper that he was working on. There was no movement from his small body but from his continuously working hand. His quill moving until it ran dry, and he simply dipped it back into the pot of ink and continued, his dark eyes trained on the paper. The only light in the room was from the candle that sat near him on the desk. A nice warm glow so that he was able to see. His tie was loosened, dark hair resting at his shoulders. No one was in the office, so he didn't mind if anyone happened to see him, because frankly, he didn't give two shits.  He sighed softly, pushing a few strands of hair out of his face as he continued to work.

This was usual for Alexander. He always stayed after work. He needed to, really. His mind was always working, trying to figure out what he needed to do next for this great nation...the nation he helped build. His hand paused briefly, thinking over that. The....war. His friends. He hardly saw them much anymore. John....the thought of his John. Yes,  _his_  John. Their nights alone on the camp, his hands pressed against his shoulders, mouths molded perfectly together in a never ending mess of love making.

It wasn't unusual for that to happen in camp. It had happened....frequently with Alexander. And not only was it John that he had sprawled out on the cot for him. But...others. A certain General, perhaps. He remembered it like it was yesterday. 

...

_"George.." He whispered, hands drifting up the larger man's chest, lips brushing against the man's neck. His eyes closed, mouth ajar as the older man gave a gentle tug to his dark hair. He gave a gentle push, to where George was pinned down against his large cot, their mouths being pressed together in a deep kiss. "Please." he groaned, feeling as the man let his fingertips trail down his back carefully._

_"What is it, Alexander? What is it that you want so badly?" he teased, gently letting his fingers glide over his chest. Alexander's chest heaved, hips pressing down against the other man's._

_"Y-You, George. I w-want--"_

_..._

Alexander's head snapped up, why hadn't he seen John lately? The pair hadn't been together for quite some time....He frowned. He missed John, the sight of him, his loving words, the way they seemed so perfect for one another. He missed it, missed it dearly. Then....realization struck him...He was...dead. He frowned softly, shaking his head, and picking up his quill. Almost ready to write again, before there were three knocks on his door.  _  
_

...What in the world?

"Come in." He called out softly, watching as the door slowly opened, revealing the man he would've rather died to see at this time, when he was clearly tired, and sad, and a mess. Thomas Jefferson strutted into the room, raising a brow, his lips dragging into a frown. 

"Hamilton, what the hell are you still doing here? It's much too late for you to be working right now." He sighed, clearly tired himself. 

"I could ask the same thing, Jefferson. Though, unlike you, I actually give a damn about my career, and I'm willing to spend as long as I can on it at once." He rolled his eyes, frowning up at the older man, who just sighed. 

"When was the last time you slept?" he asked, Alexander noticed the way his voice was so husky with sleepiness. He couldn't help the slight tint to rise to his cheeks. 

"It doesn't matter." he replied simply, frowning when Thomas stepped closer to the desk. 

"I'm sure it does." he chuckled, moving and sliding the quill out of the smaller man's hand, causing Alexander to quickly stand, more wobbly than he expected. 

"Give it the fuck back, Jefferson. I swear, could you be anymore ann-" he was cut off when he caught sight of Jefferson putting his other hand in his coat. Pulling out a flask. They locked eyes for a brief moment, before Alexander sighed, relaxing and slowly screwing the cap back on the ink pot and put it in the drawer of his desk. 

"I knew that would win 'ya over." Thomas drawled, pulling up a chair and sitting at the other side of the desk, offering the flask to Alexander first, who eagerly took it, opening it and setting the metal cap aside, tossing his head back and taking a swig. Ah....the bourbon felt just right as it welt down his throat, the burn was perfect for his aching muscles and droopy eyes. He handed the flask to Thomas, who took a lot larger swig than Alexander, just smirked and downed it with a good swallow that made his Adam's Apple bob. 

Alexander must have been dreaming, because he caught himself staring, and soon enough the Virginian was staring back. The silence was....weird. He couldn't say he didn't like it. But....he would never admit that. Instead, he straightened, taking the flask back slowly and taking a bolder swig, sighing out as he set it down it must have been a good 45 minutes of the two sitting alone together, exchanging swigs from Thomas' flask, but....out of pure curiosity he slowly looked up. 

"Why did it matter?" he asked after a moment of silence, catching Thomas' attention, who's eyebrow raised. 

"Why did what matter?" he murmured, tilting his head as he watched Alexander. 

"Me....getting sleep..why did it matter to you?"

"I want you to be okay, Alexander."

"What? No you don't."

"I do.." Thomas replied calmly, leaving Alexander dumbfounded. The immigrant squinted, staring at the man in silence. 

"You're drunk." he stated, frowning slightly as he took a slow swig from the flask. Man, how much bourbon did this thing hold? He let out a sigh, looking at Thomas, who just kept staring at him. "What? Why are you staring at me?" he asked softly, making Thomas shake his head slowly, seeming to come out of his little daze that he was in. 

"I'm not-I'm not." he said hurriedly, making Alexander chuckle faintly, screwing the cap back onto the flask and handing it back to the Virginian. 

"Go home, Thomas." he began to stand, "And I'll do the same." He made a gesture for him to go to the door, straightening his tie and buttoning up his shirt fully, before he moved to blow out the candle, he paused in the darkness, closing his eyes slightly and sighing softly. Following after Thomas slowly to his door, the tall man opened the door for him, letting him pass before closing the door behind him, and leading him out of the office.

 


End file.
